


Never Alone

by PurpleArrowzandLeather



Series: One Big Batty Family [9]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman Beyond, Son of Batman (2014)
Genre: Blood Brothers, Breaking down walls, Brotherly Bonding, Character Development, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Protective Damian Wayne, Tears, feels are hard when you've been raised by the one and only Batman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2020-05-01 19:33:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19184224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PurpleArrowzandLeather/pseuds/PurpleArrowzandLeather
Summary: Matt McGinnis is left floundering after being dragged from his own world, and now the fallout rests firmly on his head. Unsure of his place in the world, Damian Wayne comes to the rescue with unlikely words of wisdom.





	Never Alone

**Author's Note:**

> Whew. Been awhile since I updated this series last, but man, I sure got back into the swing of it. Once again, I own nothing, but I hope you'll enjoy all the same. :)

          Matt saunters down the stairs, hoping not to run into any of his new “family” members, or the Terry that he no longer recognizes. He’d waited a long time just to be for sure that everyone was on patrol. They were always careful to tell him that they were leaving so he wouldn’t worry, but he didn’t (mostly). Why he would worry about a group of total strangers is a mystery.  

          Well... maybe not a mystery. They cared for his brother. 

          Matt huffs to himself. They hadn’t just cared for him. They’d _changed_ him. Sure, they give Matt his space, but Matt isn’t sure how long he can take being in the same house as all these weird people. They spend their nights wearing leotards and spandex – whatever that is – so that they can fight crime. In his world, Batman was enough, but apparently not here. 

          He slips into the den, his finger tracing the lines of pictures on the wall. Even in the dark, their smiles are clear, as if nothing in the whole world can touch them. Matt’s eyes burn as he picks up photo frame containing his big brother with the rest of the family. Terry looks happy. He fits right in, standing between Tim and Cassandra.  

          Matt can’t help but mourn the loss of everything he knew. The Terry from his world is clearly gone, replaced with this bright and smiling Terry who seems as if he doesn’t have a care in the world.  

          With trembling hands, Matt puts the picture down.  

          A lamp flicks on. “What are you doing, McGinnis?” 

          Matt turns, backing up against the wall when he sees Damian Wayne and his beast of a dog, Titus. “Nothing.” 

          Damian scoffs, but he doesn’t look angry. “All evidence to the contrary.” 

          They taller boy gestures to the couch, a silent request (order) for him to sit. Matt hurriedly does so. He’s seen enough to know that Damian has more of a temper and attitude than Terry. Or, Terry-that-was anyway. He can get snotty, and sometimes his insults cut deeper than the sharpest knife, going straight for the insecurities of the people around him.  

          “W-what are you doing here?” 

          Damian raises a cryptic brow, a move that Matt has seen multiple times in the last few weeks when Alfred Pennyworth makes a power play. However, Damian’s look manages to convey annoyance more than a chilling warning. “Not all of us are required in the field, and I have an injured shoulder to tend to.” 

          “You look okay.” Matt answers, perhaps a little too quickly. 

          That earns him a studying glance. Damian lets him squirm for a few moments before deciding on a question to ask. “Is there some reason that you don’t want us to be here?” 

          “... No?” 

          “That was convincing.” 

          Matt glares, crossing his arms over his chest a little stubbornly and facing away from him. “Why does it matter?” 

          Damian stares at him, assessing and analyzing. He recalls what Bruce had told him recently in terms of being a role model for his younger brother. Despite Billy being closest to Matt in age, Damian is the one that Bruce said he would look to. The idea behind it is solid even if Damian doesn’t particularly agree. Emotionally, Damian has come a long way in the last ten months, more since Terry arrived. He’s grown into himself more, and now he feels a frightening burst of determination to help Matt do the same.  

          Nothing stops Damian once he’s determined, so he cautiously sits down next to the boy. 

          “Just curious, is all.” 

          Matt’s brow scrunches as he spares a glance towards Damian. “You’re not gonna yell at me for slinking around your house?” 

          “You were hardly slinking. A deaf man could have figured out you were down here.” He pauses a moment, deliberating as he continues to watch the boy. His soon-to-be little brother once the adoption papers go through. He isn’t quite sure what he thinks of that, but experience has taught him that Bruce won’t hesitate to take in people who have nothing. “It’ll be your house too, anyway. It’s only a matter of time.” 

          Damian may be stubborn, but he can accept the inevitable if there’s no viable reason to fight against it. 

          “I don’t want it to be my house! I want to go home!” 

          The older boy straightens at the outburst out of pure habit, the raised voice a sure sign of a fight. It’s only as he remembers that Matt can’t be counted as a threat does he relax again. “Would you rather live on the street? Todd said that your house in your time was destroyed. There is no home for you to return to.” 

          “I don’t care!” Matt wails, his façade of calm disappearing as Damian starts to pry. “I don’t care! I don’t know anyone here, and I don’t belong! Clearly Terry has moved on and gotten a new family, but I haven’t!” He curls up, sobs starting to rack his frame. When his voice returns to him, it’s small and broken. “ _I haven’t_ , and I am  _stuck_ here with all of you.” 

          Damian tries hard not to bristle as the way he says it, as if being themselves was some crime. He’d never admit it out loud, but he loves his brothers. Even Tim, the one who he arguably still gets along with the worst. “Are we so horrible to you?” he asks, his voice low and almost dangerous. 

          Matt cries into his knees, shaking his head. “N-no. That’s the problem! You’re all so... just so slamming nice! I d-don't even know you!” 

          The older boy’s brow creases. “You know Terry.” 

          “No, I don’t!” Matt shouts, head coming up as tears continue to stream down his face. “You people took him and changed him!” 

          Now Damian is more confused than before. Terry likes who he is now, but that obviously doesn’t mean anything to Matt. Doesn’t he like who his brother has become? “You want the brother that wouldn’t even give you the time of day... back?” 

          “Yes.” Matt stops, burying his head again. “No? I don’t know. I just- I don’t-… I don't know what I want, okay? I-is that what you wan- what you want you h-hear?" 

          Damian gives him time to break down again. He lifts a hand, awkwardly patting Matt’s shoulder with a muttered ‘there, there’. His brothers do keep telling him his bedside manner could use some work. Whatever that means. 

          The action, it turns out, it fairly useless. Matt only shrugs his hand away and bristles enough to keep Damian out of his personal space. He’s struck by the stunning knowledge that he used to do and still occasionally does the same thing. _What would Richard do?_  

          Damian scowls as he finds the answer; completely ignore the space bubble and hug him to death. That is not happening. 

          He decides on a simpler approach, which will hopefully require no physical contact. He’s studied the boy from a distance enough to know how he thinks. “We’re... None of us are trying to take him away from you.” 

          “A little late for that.” Matt chokes out, wiping his face. 

          Fortunately for Damian, Matt wasn’t raised by Bruce or assassins. All of his emotions are plain for the eye to see. “He doesn’t love us any more than he does you.” 

          Matt doesn’t seem to hear him, breaking down over and over again like waves beating at the shore. Every time Damian thinks he might be calm, he offers another weak platitude and Matt does it all over again. It makes him wonder if the boy isn’t more like Bruce than he seems. As Jason would say, genetics are a bitch. 

          “I don’t know what to do.” Matt murmurs. “This... this place and house, I- I don't-... none of this is mine.” 

          Damian thinks he finally understands, and for once, he knows exactly what to do. He places a heavy hand full of comfort on his shoulder, just like Bruce always does nowadays. He’s not sure how he finally got the hang of it, but he has. “No. It’s not.” 

          Matt flinches. 

          “But it could be.” 

          With a breath, Damian realizes this is exactly like comforting people they rescue on patrol. Everything has changed for them, and they aren’t sure they can move on. They’re alone and afraid, and they have no idea where to go next. Just like Bruce taught him, he gives the boy somewhere to go. He offers it. 

          But in a way, he also demands it. Damian wants this boy to come home, even though he has no idea which way that is yet. 

          Matt’s crying subsides for a few moments, an almost disbelieving scoff leaving him. “Like you actually want me.” 

           _Not with that attitude,_  Damian is tempted to say.  

          Titus snuffs at his knees in a quiet plea for attention and Damian strokes his head. He’s pleased enough for the time being. Matt shies away from the big dog even though it made no action against him. Damian can’t help his own curiosity. 

         “You don’t like dogs?” 

         “Not when they’re as big as I am.” Matt complains, wiping his face as if he’s finally done with his... _lengthy_ moment of weakness. “And don’t change the subject.” 

          Damian huffs. “What would make you think we wouldn’t want you? You’re here, aren’t you?” 

          Matt’s face scrunches. “Well, it’s like you said. Where else am I gonna go? I’m not supposed to exist here, and I can’t go back there.” 

          “We could always dump you in the street like a hapless orphan.” 

          Matt flinches hard at his words and Damian realizes he’s just made a mistake. He hadn’t meant to be insensitive. He’d merely forgotten that most of the sons and daughters of the family just so happened to  _be_  orphans once. They were, but they have Bruce now. They at least have a father. There has to be some comfort for Matt in knowing there’s a parent willing to be in his life, unless.... 

          “McGinnis?” 

          Matt makes an unhappy noise in his throat, a gruff acknowledgement but still a sign that he’s listening, at least. 

          “Were you informed of your genetic origins?” 

          That gets his attention. “What do you mean? I know Terry is the old man’s kid, but what does that have to do with me?” 

          Damian rests a glare on him. “Give it a moment. I’m certain it’ll come to you.” 

          The moment goes on and on. Damian just watches him in eerie silence, hoping that he’ll come to the conclusion soon enough. He would have figured that the boy could have caught on by now. Instead, he just waits in silence for Damian to stop staring and explain.  

          Damian isn’t good at gentle, but he wants to break the news to Matt _gently_. “What color was your mother’s hair?” 

          Matt blinks. “What does that have to do with anything?” 

          “Just tell me.” Damian orders, exasperation in his tone that his mother would have hit him for showing. “It’s not going to hurt anything, and it’ll help you find the proper answer to your question. 

          “Red.” 

          “And your father?” 

          Matt wavers a little just thinking about Warren McGinnis, but he answers Damian’s question. “Brown.” 

          “Now tell me how you might have gotten black hair if you were truly made from both of their genes?” Damian says, his words a little quiet in an attempt not to sound irritated. It doesn’t really work, but Matt ignores his tone. 

          “You can’t be serious.” 

          “Deadly.” 

          Matt wants to laugh. Damian can see it one his face. He wants to laugh and deny the fact that there is any possibility of him being the son of Bruce Wayne. Damian had taken the samples himself to prove it, but he hadn’t realized until a few minutes ago that Matt was still in the dark. 

          “Both you and Terrance are my half-brothers.” 

          Matt quickly shifts from shock to fuming anger. It unfortunately runs in the family. “Terry didn’t even think to tell me?” 

          Damian grumbles a bit. “I sincerely doubt that Terrance knows. The possibility likely never entered his thick skull.” 

          It’s quiet in the room for a few minutes as Matt comes to terms with his newfound knowledge. Damian gets up, straightening his clothes and rubbing his shoulder with a wince. Matt watches him retreat into the shadows like he belongs there. 

          “Wait!” 

          There’s a pause, almost as if the silence itself has been spooked. “Yes?” 

          “How could you know what my parents looked like? Why would you know or even try to figure it out?” 

          Damian closes his eyes, returning to click the lamp off and slide back into the darkness. “Because our brother loves each of you very much. He didn’t forget you, McGinnis. Any of you, even while he was here.” 

          Matt’s voice is small as he responds. “And why...” He swallows. “Why would you care? Why tell me?” 

          Damian stays where the boy can’t see him, bolstering his resolve even as he motions for Titus to follow him. He doesn’t comfort those close to him, but it’s time for an exception. “Your old family may be gone, but you have a chance to have a new one. Blood brought the both of us here, but so did something else. That something else is why I stay.” 

          The small boy on the couch is patient even as his eyes search out Damian’s shape. He wants to know what Damian has to say. Damian never talks to him this much, always watching. He wants to know. He _has_ to know what could possibly keep someone so independent here. It’s hard to fathom the amount of wisdom locked in Damian’s head, and Matt desires just one speck of that knowledge.  

          In the darkness, Damian has the strength to say what needs to be said before he disappears like the wraith he was trained to be. “Love is why I stay. Perhaps, if you’re willing to give us a chance, you’ll find that there’s no reason to run.”  

          Somehow, in that black room with only empty space as his comfort, Matt finds it within himself to try. Maybe if he fights hard enough for the life both Terry and Damian see here, then maybe he can get the one thing he’s been hoping for ever since that alley in his own time: 

          Redemption. 


End file.
